Pan
by HalfwayHeart1342
Summary: Fifteen year old Evelyn from modern day London has no clue that everything her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandmother had told to her was more than true until she comes face to face with Captain Hook of the Jolly Rodger. She goes on an adventure, realizing that not all fantasies aren't true, especially when she meets a boy she's always heard about. Pan.
1. Brent Smith

It was your average day in modern day London. People flooded the streets, on bikes and foot, going anywhere and everywhere. The spring sun peaked over Big

Ben, creating a picture perfect image for those who stood directly in front of the tower. It almost seemed as though a heaven stood just beyond the beauties of the

structure. Little did anyone know, except for few, that some sort of heaven did exist past the sight of Big Ben, and could be seen by the eye every day, shining brighter

than the most luminous star in the dark array of night. Some say that the second star to the right held a wonderland so magnificent, that it could stop time the moment

you entered the vortex on your way there. However, the story of the far away land merely stands a fairy tale for the people of this city. It was a myth.

I for certain did not believe in this tale that my mother told me and my siblings about. There was no scientific explanation backing up how it could be possible.

Even if there were, I wouldn't believe it. It's ridiculous, just used to encourage imagination for a young child's mind. Sadly, I was stupid enough to be one of those

children who believed in it. Thankfully, I came to reality when I was 10 that it wasn't true. On the contrary, some days I dream of this land, of the fairies, and mythical

creatures that put color to the picture of it. Basically anything from there that brings my mind peace. Other nights, I dreamed of the pirates, and the dangers of the

forest. Those normally ended with me waking up screaming. Maybe I was terrified of ever believing in something that could cause me so much mental pain. Who would

know?

"Evelyn Roe Marshall! What are you doing just sitting there? I told you to wash the floor!" Yes. My mother did tell me that. Was I going to do it? Maybe later…

I closed my eyes, letting the vocals of Brent Smith fill my ears, singing Shinedown's famous song 'Second Chance.' My mum glares at me from the frame of my

doorway, shaking her head, muttering something about my generation being so lazy. I hated it when adults spoke badly of my time. Are we seriously that different? Or

are you just seeing it through the eyes of your parents now? Their ideas of you are now yours on us. It's quite pathetic.

Fiddling with my black ipod, I stand up, stretching my back until I heard a pop. Felt good. Yep. "I'm doing it!"

Oddly enough, I didn't have a British accent. Perhaps it is because my father, Daniel Marshall, is from the States. That can happen, right? Heh, must be. I don't

sound like these lagoonies. I've visited the States before, I liked it a lot better than this plain, boring place. We're expected to have manners because of our

background, courteous ancestors. Clearly, my group doesn't believe in it. Most of the kids in my class go out partying, and wearing provocative clothing. Am I a part of

that? Duh. Who wouldn't? It's fun. Living it loose is better than uptight and proper. I'd honestly choose the life of a partyoholic over an old school girl who wears

dresses, lifts her pinky when drinking tea (which I don't), and squeals at mice. Really? It's a little rodent with a tail and is one millionth of your size. Nothing scary.

Maybe we are wrong. But in my great-great-grandmother's time, they lived life off of hoping that fairy tales were true, and that's what motivated them daily. For

example, that the fairies from the majestic land came and changed the seasons. Putting certain animals into hibernation, waking them up at the end of winter.

Changing the colors of the trees, sprouting the flowers in May. It was almost like they controlled our lives here. But thing is, why do this for another world? That's what

I couldn't understand. Now I do. My theory is that they simply enjoyed doing it. Either that, or it was their job that Mother Nature sent them to do. Ugh, now I sound

like a kid.

It took me not so long to clean the floors in the bathroom, kitchen, and hallways. By that time, it was 7:00, and my mum was setting up dinner for her, my father,

my brothers, sister, and I. We always ended the day with big meals, my mother believed that we were too tiny to continue on having small meals like other families

around us. We needed to sit on our calories so that we maintained a healthy weight. Like it did could do anything to my brother Rowan, he had the fastest metabolism

in the family, right after me of course. Nothing could touch either of us, we were pretty active. Although, I'm sure if we weren't, nothing would happen anyways.

"What's for dinndinn, mum?" A quirky grin settles between my rosy cheeks, my stomach rumbles a little.

"Spaghetti, darling. Call the boys and Annya, will you? Your father just got off work and is coming home." Her voice is gentle, clearly meaning something is up. She

never speaks gently unless there is something going on. Sad, huh? Now that I think of it, she didn't look to happy earlier either.

I skip down the hall to Rowan's and Uriah's room, sticking my head in the door to see them playing COD. "Food's ready, dorks. Come out of your rat den." Their

room was quite raunchy, it needed a good cleaning. "In a minute Lynny!" I growled at that nickname, I despise it greatly. Not a second later, I was peaking into

Annya's room. Honestly, just looking at our rooms, you could tell we were completely opposite. She was into pink, barbies, and obviously, One Direction. It made me

throw up in my mouth at the sight of the cut out of Harry Styles. Boy, did I hate that band. Too preppy. My room was polar in a way that I favored black, and loved

motorcycles, as well as preferred bands that had a better taste of music. AKA from rock to death metal. That was me.

I started playing with the strands of my straight black hair, making an awkward face. "We have food on our plates. Now lets go." I attempted to sound like Peter

Griffin from Family Guy. Epic fail. Annya looks up at me from the floor, where her makeup kit sat in front of her. She was trying to do her makeup again. Tsk tsk. "Okay."

Her voice irritated me profoundly. Sooo girly. Bleh.

** ~Two hours later~**

My Nightmare Before Christmas shirt fit like a glove as I slid it on, hugging me in the good places, as well as my skeleton pajama bottoms that I got from the

States. Turning on the sink, I pull out my tooth brush from the cup to the right side of the faucet, as well as the toothpaste tube from the cabinet right in front of me. I

proceed to brush my teeth, loving the instant burn of the strong peppermint intrude my mouth that still lingered in flavor of the spaghetti and sauce I had earlier. Lyrics

flooded my brain, causing me to sway slowly from side to side. The apartment was quiet, everyone else was in bed in the building except for me. I look at myself in the

large mirror that obtained most of the wall. In a way, I felt connected to the mirror, I grew up watching myself, all 15 years. From not being able to see the tip of my

hair, to see my whole self.

I smile to myself, spitting out the foaming toothpaste, and replaying it with mouthwash. Suddenly, there was a bump on the roof. A few bumps followed, as well as

mumbling voices. I spit out my mouthwash, my heart started to beat louder into my ears as well as the feeling of curious butterflies create a mosh pit in my stomach.

What the..? I head out of the bathroom quietly, yet quickly. entering my room. Closing the door behind me, I listen closely for the noises again. It was quiet. Too quiet

for what I had just heard. A chill rattles up my spine, and I clench my fists, my gut dropping when I see my window wide open. I never opened it before hand. With my

heart beat still pounding hard, I creep to the window, back slightly arched. On the way, I grab hold of my pocket knife, sliding it in my pocket.

I touch one of the shutters, but pull my hand back at the cold. Confusion crosses over my face as I close the shutters, exhaling with my eyes closed. Nothing to

fear. I catch my breath in a thoughtless heave when I hear something move behind me. My body starts to shake, and I reach for my pocket knife. I swiftly pull it out as

I turn around, to see three strangers in my room, all dressed up as pirates. The one in the middle who wore a captain's hat, and a red cloak smiled sickly at me. "Hello,

my dear." His voice choked me of making any noise, I looked like a deer in the sight of headlights.

"Stay back!" I managed to say, pointing my knife at them, doing a poor defense stance. The man chuckles, playing with the black stache upon his face, he takes

a step forward with the other two. "Get her, men." After his words were said, the world went black for me. The last I could distinguish of my surroundings was his

maniac-like laughing.

_~her dream~_

_ The world turned a dark blue as I stepped onto the beach of the majestic land known as Neverland. The air was crisp, scratching at my face with each gust thrown at _

_me. My eyes widened in amazement. The trees were all a healthy dark green, but were huge. Probably could beat the sizes of the trees at the Redwood Forest in California, my _

_dad's original home before he moved to London. I've never been there, but I wish I could. Oh, I wished I could. _

_ I was barefooted, so I could feel the pure white sand between my toes, bringing me to memories of when I was younger, when my family and I had gone to Barafundle _

_Bay Beach. I always loved beaches, it made me feel like that little girl with those bright blue eyes and silly, happy smile. That girl had died, and was replaced with what was _

_now considered as me. _

_ The forest was overloading my brain completely with it's beauty and stunning appearance. However, my gawkingness was diminished when the ground below my feet _

_started to rumble, the noise of an angry creature filling my ears. Without a second thought, I ran. I knew the beast was on my trail when I heard those large trees I was _

_admiring became one with the dirt that it was once connected to. Tears filled my eyes, my pace speeding up as the creature got closer, and closer. Taking a quick glance behind_

_me, I saw that it was a good 40 feet behind me. It was a large croc, bigger than a bloody mammoth! _

_ My heart raced and raced, and I knew it in my heart that I was going to die, that I wouldn't make it out alive, wherever I was. The beast managed to be just behind my _

_feet now, snapping it's jaws and roaring. This is it. I thought to myself. This is the end. Out of nowhere, something flew over my head, and the sound of agony emerged from _

_the beast. I continued to run, only daring to catch a glimpse when I was a good hundred yards away. It was a boy that stopped that beast. I stopped running and starred._

_It was Pan._


	2. Jase

It's funny how when you're young, you get so attached to the idea of an imaginative concept, or a mythical character. Such as Santa Clause, or the Easter Bunny.

And as you grow older, you learn the truth by either kids in school, or your parents telling you that they've lied to you all these years. I remember learning of this,

and it crushed me. I didn't talk to my mum or dad for two days after finding out that Santa didn't exist. Or, well, he did once. He was real. But he had no true magic,

the only magic he possessed was the magic of bringing people happiness, and pure joy. But, with the story of Neverland, that is something my family still push me to

believe. My mum says one day I will see, just as my great-grandmother, and her grandmother once did. However, I can't bring myself to do so. Honestly, there was

no way in bloody hell that I could. Faith, trust, and pixie dust? It sounds like something a total stoner would say while walking through an art museum!

My mind was clueless as to what was so important about that boy in the stories, Peter Pan. Hearing about him throughout the years made me acknowledge how

much of an ignorant, selfish little boy he was. Actually, he technically wasn't a boy. Mum says he was around my current age when my great-great grandmother

Wendy Moira Angela Darling, and my great-grandmother Jane Demetrious saw him. Wendy Darling loved him as I was told, and that she on some days wished she

had stayed in Neverland with Peter. That, or he learned to grow up, and went with her. She missed him greatly throughout the years, and her heart had lept the one

day he returned Jane. It was like looking back through a time machine. Memories had filled her mind as her eyes widened with shock. Quite frankly, I pitied my

grandmother to the power of 2G's. Perhaps more-so Pan. His words to her after so many years were 'Hello there Wendy. Jee, you've gotten mighty old.' Nice, yes? So

respectable. Alas,I wouldn't expect him to be. He IS a five year old trapped in a fifteen year old's body, from what I presume. Pathetic.

When I was little, supposedly, I used to draw what I pictured Pan as. I still have a few in my closet back at home. He was my practical role model. Perfection,

inspiring, everything I'd ever dream of being. Heck, I even have a little stuffed toy of him that my grandmother had sewn together for me. She even made it so his

'shadow' was sewn onto only one foot, showing what Wendy was doing for him the night they first ever met. Wendy saw him trying to glue his shadow back on by

rubbing soap on the soles of his shoes. 'Cause that would work. Not to mention your shadow CAN'T be separated from you, so clearly that alone states that Peter is

nothing more than a character, NOT a real person...right?'

The sounds of seagulls, crashing waters, and singing voices awoke me from the unwanted unconscious state I was put in. At first, I was unaware of my surroundings;

I believed to be in bed with some movie playing on her TV. Then, I felt the chill of the biting wind smack me in the face from a nearby window. I remembered walking

into my room after hearing the voices of those pirates...

PIRATES!

Oh god, another fairy tale. Maybe I'm in a coma? Have to be! This isn't real! None of this could possibly come close to being existent! People are just playing tricks on

me. Yes, thats it! Paul and Jessie, they're doing it! They love to find things about me and pick on me about them! It has to be! It has to-

"You're awake." A prominently masculine, yet young voice rings in the room.

I had realized my body was curled up in a ball on the floor once I tried looking for the voice. My head barely lifts itself off the ground before a man in a blue uniform

is in my vision.

"Who are you...? Where am I? What's going on?!" Questions raged out of my mouth, and I began to get chocked by anxiety. I already seemed to get ahead of myself,

although, who wouldn't panic when they're taken from their homes in the middle of the night by psychotic strangers dressed as a bunch of pirates from a Disney

movie.

"Easy there, girl. I've got to tell the Capt that you're awake!" And with that, the blonde haired man ran out.

That wasn't weird. At all. I shake my head a little, trying to waken myself up completely. The scent of thick rum penetrated my nostrils, and I could tell that the boat

I was on contained multiple drunk men. Not like being around drunks was unusual, every Friday night at the Master's Club down town was the spot I was familiar

with. Purple and blue lights, flashing of course in a rapid frequency, blasting music, sweating, sexy bodies rubbing against each other on the dance floor, and

depressed, angry men sat at the bar- being pushed off when the employees realized how wasted they really were. I sat there once or twice, I always enjoyed the

attention of the hot guys there...sometimes there weren't, but either way it always boosts my self esteem. Not the best way, but at least I have one.

Dragging myself out of thought, I look around at the room I was in. There were hammocks hanging by the ceiling, half filled mugs- some spilled its way all over the

floor. Fowl aromas of unwashed, sweaty ballsack infuriated my scent glands, making me hold my nose when realization, and identification of the smell came to

mind. The air stood still with a humid feel, but a chilling breeze made its way through the ajar, circular window not so far from where I sat. Not even the air could

obtain such a distinct feel of weariness than the voices that gathered just outside of a door, probably separating me from the outside.

To my unsurprised, the door opened, and a man in a red clock walked in with a confident, self-centered stride. His black bucked boots clunked with eat step, heel

first, followed by toe, causing the floor to creak annoyingly below him. Even from this distance, his aftershave reached me, choking me with an unfamiliar feeling, and

yet, so familiar in a way I couldn't even count.

"You belong in the bloodline of Wendy Moira Angela Darling. I can tell from the way you're looking at me." The captain's voice was husky, his eyes never leaving the

pupils of my own.

"That's not creepy or anything. Knowing relatives, ect. What are you? A telepathic genius, or just a crazy freak trying to match me to someone I don't know." My

voice was monotone for the post part. Plain, simple, and to the point. What was this guy going to expect of me anyway? So what I'm related to her? If I'm in

Neverland, why would my existence matter so much? Is he going to do exactly what he did to Jane? I'm bait, I know it. But why would little ole Pan do? He can't

the presence of a Darling...or can he?

The younger appearing pirate-like man stood behind the captain, a spark in his eyes at my fake enthusiasm. "Oh Capt, you've got a good one I'd say! She's perfect!

You could put her to work now, not lure in that stupid Pan boy again. Not like it do much for us-" "Jase, shut up." A shaggy, blonde haired boy- just around my age

I'd presume- interrupted him. "But it's true! Aye Captain, you've always said you've needed a woman. You've got one now! Yeah?!" I could tell this guy was on the

verge of an orgasmic-like release, just by how his knees shook with excitement. It was amusing. Very amusing.

"Jase, let me make this clear enough for you. YOU do not make the plans around here. Got it?" The man spat in the boy's face, making whatever had his knees

shaking, come to a halt. "Um, excuse me? I don't know what you guys think of doing with me, but I had fun here on the floor. Can I go home now?" "DO NOT SPEAK

WHEN YOU ARE NOT SPOKEN TO! Haven't your parents taught you ENOUGH?" The captain's face turned beat red as he bellowed harshly at me. I couldn't help but

crack a smile, and slowly get to my feet, to meet almost eye level with him.

"If you try to intimidate me, in any form or way, OR try to tell ME what to do. You can forget about your bait, you good for nothing piece of old trash. You're messing

with the wrong time period, and it will back fire on you if YOU don't treat ME with respect." I could feel the hate already build towards this guy. One thing he should

learn about girls now, especially me, is to not try to control me. I'm uncontrollable. If he wants to pick a fight, he's going to be embarrassed and knocked right on his

cold hearted ass.

He did just as I expected to, grabbed my hair, and pulled me down. It did hurt, but only a sting, and all I could do is still smile with amusement. "Speak against me,

once more, and you will regret it."

"Try me." I said emotionlessly.

The man dragged me out of the room by my hair, and tossed me onto the deck-landing hard, but still, it didn't bother me. I've been in plenty of 'cat fights' with girls

who could do worse than a tug of the hair like this guy. I got to my feet, grin still sick and present. "If that's all you got, pops, you've ain't seen nothing yet, Hooky

boy."

He tosses me a sword, and pulls out his own with the same hand. At that point, I knew it was Hook, just by the sight of that one hooked hand shining brightly in the

sunlight. Effortlessly, I caught it by the blade between my index finger, and my thumb. I let it fall between my fingers until the handle was in the palm of my hand.

The crew gathered around us, eyes glued to me in my Nightmare Before Christmas pjs. "Are we going to fight, or what? Wasting my time isn't going to be too

impressive, ya' old bat." I said, faking a yawn in the process. Clearly aggravated by my actions, he swings first, and I catch him off guard by being quicker. My sword

locked into the handle of his, I twisted, and it fell from his hand as my blade sliced part of his wrinkled hand. Sweetly, I place the tip to his throat. "Again, not

impressive, sir." I bat my eyes, and put the blade down. "And if you are to threaten me, or try harm. Use your hands. Don't be a whimp and hide behind metal."

I stick the sword into floor of the deck, and swing my hips as I walked back into the room I woke up into.

This place is boring as fuck. I think to myself, while in search for a semi-clean hammock to take a nap in. Those two boys, Jase, and whoever else, followed me in.

Jase clutched his hat, stuttering in soft mumbles, trying to find something to say to me. "Y-ya know the Capt ain't to happy, ma'am. He-he's, uh, wanting another

match."

"I don't care, later. I want to sleep." Wow. If Neverland was all dangerous, yet adventure. I'd love to see it. I find a decent hammock over by the spilled rum, and

climb into it. The force made it sway side to side, helping me drift into a sleep that could only be awoken from if a gun shot fired right by my ear.

Where is the fun here. I'd love to seek it out. I think before falling asleep.


End file.
